I'd Come For You
by flashpenguin
Summary: Reese and Joss survived Simmons's ambush, and HR is dead and gone. But is it? Quinn's made off with millions, but leftover HR mongrels want that money and will stop at nothing to get it back...even using Quinn's daughter as bait. When Joss goes undercover to guard her nemesis's offspring, her moral compass will be tested. As danger closes in, will Reese be able to save them both?
1. Chapter 1

_I am taking a HUGE risk by even attempting to take on this story. For some reason I feel that everything I've accomplished in the past 4 years is at stake the moment I post this story. But on the other hand, it was inspired by a full-length dream and it is demanding to be told or else! So, that said, I have to weigh my credibility against sleep._

_I do not own "Person of Interest", but the characters will own this story if I succeed. On the other hand, if I fail, I own it…lock, stock, and barrel!_

**_Song prompt: "I'd Come For You" by Nickleback._**

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

_You're being watched…_

Tucked away in a high rise in the middle of downtown New York City, three well dressed men sat in a spacious office that was lit by a single lamp, but they were oblivious to the dimness. What should have been a friendly get together was shadowed by feelings of revenge and animosity. And they all had one mission: To find and destroy the man who had ruined their lives and fortunes.

"Quinn's going to pay for what he did to us," the first impeccably dressed man growled. Outfitted in an expensive suit, he looked more like a Wall Street executive than an underworld boss. But where there should have been some kind of understanding in his eyes, pure hatred burned instead.

"It was out of his control," the second well dressed man defended. Just as impeccably dressed as his colleague, his eyes held the same menacing look, but his eyes were also focused on the man in the chair across from him. "He did the best he could."

"The best he could?! He allowed himself to be captured, and then he struck a deal with the Feds that put him in WITSEC! Now he's hiding away under a false name with _our _money!" The first man stated menacingly, his jaw clenched in rage. Standing up, he paced the floor.

"I knew we should have taken him out when we had a chance. But no, you wanted him to live," he continued, pointing to his companion. "You wanted him to live so he could take us to the money. Instead, what does he do? He steals…from _us_!"

"He could still lead us to the money."

The first man spun around. Incredulity replaced the anger. "And how do you expect that to happen when we don't know where he is? He could be anywhere!"

"I have friends in the FBI…" The second man offered up his plan, but was abruptly cut off.

"Yeah," the first man snorted sarcastically. "_You_ have _friends_. That doesn't help _us_ find _our_ money."

The clearing of a throat stopped the bickering. "Your first mistake was putting your trust in Quinn to begin with," the older man behind the desk stated in a tone that was both cultivated and no nonsense. His finger was pointed at the first man. "You knew he was corrupt and he couldn't be trusted – he did execute his own godson. Did you really think that he would treat his associates any differently?"

"He made us a promise!"

"Promises were made to be broken," the older man replied evenly. "You made your bed by allowing him to get the best of you, and now the money is gone. You have two options, as far as I can tell. The first one is: you can admit that you made a mistake and lay in the bed you made." He templed his fingers under his chin and surveyed the two men before him.

"The second one is: you find a way to get our money back. Or I will find a way to get it back from you."

The first man stood stock still. His eyes bounced from the man behind the desk to the man on the couch. Fear of the unspoken threat was enough to chill his blood, but he didn't let it show. He would only accept his fate _after_ he ran out of options.

"How do you propose for me to do that?" he returned with false bravado. It didn't slip past his sharp ears as a pistol was cocked. He had no doubt in his mind that the barrel was aimed at him.

The older man gave an indifferent shrug. What did he care about feelings now that his money was gone? "You're a smart man, figure it out. But if you want a suggestion, I would say you start with his family."

"Most of his family is dead or relocated," the first man protested. "That doesn't give me many options to locating the money. And if he put it in Swiss bank accounts, we are going to need him, not his family."

"Then you flush him out of hiding," came the short reply tinged with exasperation.

The first man snorted. "He won't come out for a bank account."

"No," the man behind the desk nodded in agreement, "he won't. But he will if you use his daughter as bait."

Silent understanding filled the tense room as the mood changed immediately from betrayal to revenge. "And you think that will make him break his cover and come out?"

"Men in WITSEC have done so for less. He holds his family in high esteem. He'll do the same."

"Like he held his godson? Cal Beecher wasn't feeling the love when he was ventilated. What makes you think that Quinn's loyalties lie stronger with his blood?" First man scoffed with disgust.

"Every father holds his daughter in high esteem. And I can't see Quinn being any different. When he hears his little girl's life is in danger, he'll either come out, or he will surrender the account. And then, you know what to do."

"Are you sure?" The second man spoke up. He had done his share of killing, and he had no regrets. But when it came to women…he had to draw the line somewhere. "She may not have anything to do with it."

"She's Quinn's blood, and that makes her as guilty. Though it is not the son's sin to take on when his father does wrong, a father should know better than to lay his sin upon his children." The boss looked at his men. "You're not going to have a problem with this, are you?"

"I'm afraid of drawing in unwanted attention. He has a marshal side-kick who follows him everywhere. They aren't going to just let him out of their sight. And they are sure to smell a set-up from a mile away."

"Then I suggest that you find a way around that small obstacle. I don't need to remind you both that millions of dollars are on the line." He gave a dramatic pause. "Along with your lives." It was not a threat that was made lightly, nor in jest, and the sound in the room was deafening.

The two men looked at one another. Some lines were meant to be crossed when honour and integrity were at stake. And this was one of it.

"Blood is thicker than money, gentlemen. That's why there is no room for error. I want my money back."


	2. Chapter 2

_So, this story has been haunting me all week...even with a split double that managed to wipe me out! The bad news is that there is another split double on the horizon for this week, too! But I promise to post something before then. That said, I hope that you don't mind me opening the story with CAREESE - after all, it is their story. Don't get too wrapped up in the feel good because there IS going to be conflict. The good news is that I know who the bad guys are! And I have a pretty good guess you do, too! But we'll get to that later. Enjoy!_

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

_**Six weeks later...**_

Joss Carter huddled deeper into her coat as the bitterly cold New York City wind whipped between the buildings and carried flakes of snow to dust the sidewalks. Breathing out, she took a little pleasure in the way her breath turned to vapor. Sure it was a childish thing to do, but not if there was a possibility of never being able to do it again. As others complained about the long winter and prayed for summer, Joss was grateful for the moment. She vowed never to complain about the seasons...even if the city got below freezing in winter and sweltered in the summer.

Climbing the stairs to the double doors of the precinct she never expected to see again, her eyes took in every single item. She was home! She looked at her watch. Okay, she was a couple of hours early, but that was alright; she could enjoy the quiet before the first shift arrived.

Shrugging out of her coat and scarf, Joss hung them on the back of her chair and noticed the brown bag and large cup of coffee on her desk. She shook her head in disbelief and chuckled. He could still find the little ways to amaze her.

"Good one, John," she mumbled. Her heart picked up the pace as her eyes darted around the room. _Was he watching her?_

At that exact moment, her phone rang.  
****

Tucked against a tall building across the street from the precinct, John Reese still found it easy to blend into the crowd – though maybe the dusk seemed to aid in his surveillance.

Dressed conservatively in a long coat to protect his trademark suit, he kept his eyes trained forward. He barely registered the noise as the city slowly came to life, nor did he feel the rush of the people as they hurried past him – he was concentrating on a more important target.

From his corner, he watched as Joss Carter hurried up the steps toward her precinct and thru the double doors. He dialed his phone and put it to his ear. "Good morning, detective," he greeted with undisguised pleasure.

"Good morning, John," Joss sat down and opened the bag. "I still don't know how you manage to get in here without anyone seeing you."

"Trade secret."

"I suppose that trade secret is tied in with mind reading." Carefully she removed the plastic lid from the cup and sipped. Perfect. "How did you know that I take it with cream, no sugar?"

"Hmmm," he replied noncommittally.

"You're up early. Getting a head start on the bad guys?" she teased and looked toward the door way. Nowhere to be seen, but she knew he was out there just watching – her very own guardian angel.

"I just wanted to say that it's good to have you back," he smiled. Hearing her voice was enough to make his day.

Joss grinned. "It's good to be back." Even the stack of folders on her desk wasn't enough to dampen her mood. She had missed everything from the lousy coffee to the constant noise, but she was back. And God willing, she was never going to leave it again.

"Do you think that New York survived without us being gone for two months?" Reese asked tongue in cheek. He rubbed his gloved hands together as the cold wind whipped around him. The temperature seemed to be dropping, but she was worth it.

"Oh, I'm sure that Fusco held down the fort while we were out," she said and cast a glance at her partner's desk. He had one more week of convalescence, and she had no doubt that he was spending those days with Lee.

"So, what are you doing up early?" Reese prodded. "I thought you still had another couple of weeks of medical leave?"

A sharp pain caused Joss to draw in a deep breath. Closing her eyes, she counted to ten. Slowly she sipped the hot coffee and began to relax.

"Heh. I had to get out of the house. I love my mother, but…" she confessed with a shake of her head. "The four walls were slowly closing in. I had to leave or go crazy." She didn't go into detail how her mother had taken it upon herself to wait on Joss hand and foot. "She means well, but I had to get out of there or go crazy."

Reese knew how suffocating a room could become while lying in a bed with nothing to do. He had been there too many times to count. Of course, this time, Joss was waiting for him. His heart began to beat a little faster. He still dreamed of her lips on his, and the way she looked up at him with those big brown eyes full of questions that he wasn't sure he could answer.

Even now he wasn't sure if he had the answers, but after cheating death for the umpteenth time – and almost losing her – he was ready to explore the unknown. But he couldn't tell her that…not right now. They both had to heal first.

"What are you doing up so early?" Joss returned. "Doctor give you the clearance to go back to kicking the bad guy's ass?"

"Almost," he confessed and rotated his left shoulder. The bullet had torn up the muscle pretty good, but his rotator cuff had been spared. "Like you, I needed some fresh air. How about dinner? Tonight?" he asked out of the blue.

Joss bit her lip. She didn't want to think that there could be anything more to Reese's invite, but she couldn't help but wonder if there was an ulterior motive. After all, his kiss still haunted her.

"I'd love to, John," she sighed, "but I know that there is a mountain of paperwork on my desk. I-I want to tackle that before I go home tonight."

"I understand." And he did. More than she could know.

"But I'll take a rain check," she added quickly.

"I'll hold you to it."

"Stay out of trouble," she ordered. "Though I know you won't."

Reese chuckled and hit the button in his earwig to disconnect the call. He hit it again when it beeped. "Good morning, Finch. You're up early," he greeted his friend.

"I wanted to get an early start on the day. I see you had the same idea." Finch measured the dog kibble and poured it into Bear's dish. Eagerly, the dog devoured his breakfast. "How is Detective Carter?" Finch asked as he carefully lowered himself into the office chair and turned on the computer.

"She talked the doctor into granting her a light duty chit so she could go back to work. She should be taking it easy," Reese argued.

"As should some other people I know," Finch replied evenly. He knew better than to try talking his best friend out of doing something once his mind was set. All he could do was hope that the numbers continued to come in sporadically. So far, Shaw had held down the fort – he wasn't complaining - but for how long?

The computer buzzing drew Finch's attention to the monitor. A series of numbers scrolled across the screen.

"I'm feeling better. Besides, didn't you tell me that the numbers never stop coming?" Reese returned back in kind his employer's motto.

"Be that as it may, Mr. Reese, you still need to think about your health. It won't do anyone any good if you get reinjured." Finch's fingers flew over the keyboard as he pieced together the cryptic clues the Machine had given him.

Reese appeared bemused by the statement. "I almost think you care, Finch."

"Well, it appears to be your lucky day; a number has come in. A car jacking is about to go down three blocks from your location. I'm sending you the information right now."

Reese looked down the moment the alert came in. "I'm on my way."

"Be careful, Mr. Reese."

An enigmatic smile was Reese's only response.


	3. Chapter 3

_Okay, so the new chapter is up and I couldn't hide the bad guys' identities any longer. All of them are revealed in this chapter. So, I had to tackle Shaw…well, honestly, I don't care one way or the other for the character – although she DID save Fusco's son. It took everything I had to get into her head and see things from her point of view. And in the process, I think I managed to make her a bit human. I hope I don't disappoint._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

The innocent was saved, and John Reese's good deed for the day was done.

Standing outside opposite the police precinct, he kept an eye on the double doors while keeping himself out of the wind. Sure it was colder than a witch's ass and he could be inside where it was warm, but he didn't mind doing a little surveillance where Joss was concerned. Besides, there was no where else he would rather be.

Though his mind was concentrated elsewhere, his senses were still on high alert and didn't miss the stealth way the dark figure crept up beside him.

"Shaw," he acknowledged, keeping his eyes forward.

"John," Shaw returned in monotone. "I thought you had another week to convalesce."

"My doctor gave me an early release."

"Your doctor needs to give you a kick in the ass."

"That's a unique bedside manner. I can see why you went free lance," Reese quipped.

Shaw's only response was a smirk followed by a sarcastic snort. Turning her head, she cast a glance at the building across the street. "How is Joss?"

"Fine." No other explanation was needed, so he left it there.

"Heard you took out a bad guy this morning. Guess you didn't need any help. Still…you could have called me."

"No need." Reese rubbed his hands together and shrugged. "I took care of him. But he won't be car-jacking anyone again."

Shaw considered her response. "I see you're getting your superhero powers back." Reese turned to look at her. "What? I can crack a joke."

"Must be my lucky day."

"Speaking of lucky day, I heard that you dropped a little something off for Joss this morning."

"I did." Reese didn't elaborate.

"And," she continued, "I heard that you asked her out." Reese raised his eyebrow in her direction. "Hey, I may not be able to feel emotion like a normal person, but I know how to blue-jack a phone. I think you need to ask her again."

"I can do this. Without help."

"I'm sure you can, but even superheroes need help. I think you both need a push in the right direction."

"I have a job, Shaw. I can't afford to allow personal feelings to get mixed in with obligations," Reese stated, but even to his ears the excuse sounded hollow. Maybe five years ago he felt that way, but now… Things had changed while being trapped in the morgue. He had opened up to someone in a way he never could have imagined. And so had Joss.

"I may not look it, but I do know how to have fun," Shaw replied as the wind whipped a lock of hair across her face. Impatiently she pushed it behind her ear. She caught Reese's surprised look. "Okay. Maybe it's not your idea of fun, but it works for me."

The silence stretched between them as the crowds rushed past.

"I never thanked you for helping me," Reese grudgingly offered the thanks.

"You're welcome. I'm not sure how Finch would have dealt with the alternative. That goes for Fusco, too."

"I'm sure Bear would have missed me," Reese groused as a smile tugged at his lips. He was teasing with Shaw. Maybe his near death experience had caused a shift in the universe, he mused.

Shaw appeared nonplussed by the comment. "Bear would've gotten over it. But I know someone who wouldn't have," she left the rest unsaid but nodded toward the police station. Taking his cue, Reese turned to leave.

"You should do something nice for her," Shaw called out. "Hell, it might surprise both of you."

Turning his collar up against the freezing wind, Reese shoved his gloved hands deeper into his coat pockets and walked away. But his mind was spinning.  
****

"Have you found her yet?" the voice on the other end of the phone line boomed.

"We have a lead." Nervous fingers fiddled with the pen. He could wish for a better answer, but that was all they currently had.

"What about Quinn? Have your guys gotten back to you with his location?"

"I have a guy trying to infiltrate the WITSEC database. We should have something in a couple of days. If that fails, we can try hacking the FBI and get their records."

"What about the money?"

"We have an idea where it might be, but nothing solid."

"I want that money, and I want to know where Quinn is. And I want it by the end of the day!"

"We're working on it, sir," empty words used to placate the very man who could order his demise. But there was nothing else he could offer.

"I don't want to hear how you're 'working on it'; I want results. I want my money. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." Pen forgotten, all attention was on the veiled threat.

"Do I need to remind you what is at stake if you fail me?"

A pause.

"I will bring everything you've requested to your office, Mr. Griffin."

"Tonight. No excuses."

There was no mistaking the slamming of the phone on the other end. No sooner was the receiver placed on the cradle when it rang.

"Bogle, here. You better have something for me," he growled.

"We think we found Quinn's daughter."

"Where?" Bogle grabbed the pen and scribbled the address relayed on the other end. "Is she there now?"

"She's at work. I don't think it would be wise to hit her there."

"No. It would cause too many problems. We need to get her isolated and then grab her." Bogle looked at his watch. "Assemble a couple of guys and I'll call you in an hour."

"Got it."

"And Clark?"

"Yes?"

"Don't fail me." Bogle disconnected before hearing the response. Smiling maniacally, he leaned back in his chair. "This is going to be a piece of cake."


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry to make you all wait for this update. Been pulling a couple of extra shifts at work, and doubles eventually catch up and turn one's brain into mashed potatoes! You'll be happy to know that I have taken the time to outline the next few chapters because I just found out that I have to pull another double! I promise to post as soon as I can. That said, I hope my version of Alonzo Quinn works. If it doesn't, PLEASE let me know._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

Arizona was too damn hot for a man like him, Alonzo Quinn told himself as he sat on the porch of the quaint house he now occupied.

"More like hell," he groused under his breath and took a sip of the lemonade he hoped would cool him down. Looking around at the rustic neighbourhood set in the middle of nowhere, he compared New York to where he was now: Open blue skies, very little trees, less crowded, and clean air. Strange lizards that could give some sewer rats a run for their money seemed to have a population of their own—and in his house! First time he'd seen one, he nearly had the hell scared out of him. And yes, there were the spiders and the lack of trees, but that wasn't what bothered him, it was the heat! Lots of heat!

"Yeah, I'm in hell." He set the glass down on the table with more force than he intended and caused the liquid to slosh over the rim. "Damn it!" Reaching for a towel, he tied to sop up the mess.

"Good morning, Gery," a voice greeted behind him. "Or should I still call you Alonzo?"

"Call me any damn thing you want to; this heat is killing me," Quinn returned briskly. Finished cleaning, he threw the towel on the ground near the back door. Turning around, he gave a snort at the man dressed in a Navy blue suit and tie.

"From what I heard, this is just preparation for the real thing," the agent quipped.

"Do I know you?"

"Agent Hewitt." The man extended his hand. "I'm your new handler."

Quinn eyed the gesture with a wary eye. "I didn't know the old one was getting replaced. Let me see some credentials," he nodded toward the suit jacket of the agent. "And take it out slowly; no tricks."

Agent Hewitt kept one hand raised in the air as the other searched for his billfold tucked neatly inside a hidden pocket. Once he extricated it, he tossed it onto the patio table. Nonplussed, he mentally counted the seconds while his charge carefully scrutinized every single detail on his ID.

Satisfied, Quinn tossed it back at the agent. "So, this is how all you boys work around here? Switch people out at the drop of a hat without any warning?"

"You act as though your life is on the line."

"I wouldn't be in WitSec otherwise. The least you could have done was give me a little warning. We didn't run things this bad in the precinct."

"If you say so," Hewitt returned without much emotion. He was well versed on the case and knew it inside and out. He knew about the organization "HR", and he knew about the confirmed and suspected links to the Russian mob and the other groups linked to the dark underbelly of organized crime. In truth, it disgusted him. But he wasn't here to like or not like the man – that wasn't his job. The job was protecting him and making sure he left his stupid tendencies back where he came from before innocent people died.

"What's the latest news?" Quinn prodded for any information he could extract. Just because he was no longer in the loop of things didn't mean that he didn't want to know what was happening.

"New York is surviving just fine without your influence."

"So you say." Quinn wiped the sweat from his forehead. "This fucking heat is going to kill me," he grumbled. "When do I get to choose somewhere that isn't hot?"

Hewitt didn't blink. In fact, he was almost amused by the demand. "What do you have in mind?"

"I don't know." Quinn poured himself another glass of lemonade and sat down. "Maybe Montana. Just make it where there are four seasons."

"I don't think you'd fit in."

Quinn snorted and sipped his lukewarm drink. "I don't care where I 'fit in'; I want the fuck out of here. I have rights."

"Your 'rights' went out the window the night you ordered a New York detective to be shot and aided in the murder of a judge. You don't get 'rights' any more," Hewitt leveled back in an even tone.

"So, what do I get?" Quinn shot back.

"You get a second chance. Take it, Alonzo or Gery or whatever your name is. You were given the right to move on. How many of your victims got that second chance?" Hewitt shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. "No one is forcing you to stay here; you can pick up and move to Montana. We're just not paying for it." He turned to leave.

"I want to see my daughter," Quinn's request was so low it was barely audible.

Hewitt stopped, turned around. "Excuse me?"

"I want to see my daughter." Quinn stood up and met the other man eye to eye. "I want to know she's alright."

Hewitt shook his head. "We can't do that. You know the rules. No contact."

"Rules are meant to be broken."

"Not this one. You signed on the dotted line and accepted everything that went into changing your life and leaving your past behind," Hewitt stated evenly.

"I know what I said, but I have to know if she's okay," Quinn pleaded passionately. "Just get one letter to her. That's all."

"Can't do it."

"One letter. I'll never ask for anything again."

"Not even a move to Montana?" Hewitt couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"Look. I can play politics with the best of them, and I know how to play the game. I haven't asked for anything since I came to this godforsaken hell four months ago. I want one request honoured." Opening the sliding glass door, Quinn stepped into the kitchen and opened the cupboard. Extracting an envelope, he walked back to Hewitt.

"What is that?" Hewitt eyed the white envelope with apprehension.

"I want this sent to my daughter. No questions asked. You don't even have to put my name on the outside." Quinn pressed it into the other man's hand. "Get it to her."

"Why are you doing this?"

"I think her life is in danger."

"Has someone contacted you?" Hewitt pressed. "Have you received something that we need to know about? A letter? A note?"

Quinn turned around so his back was facing. He was not going to let some rookie federal agent see him cry. "Let's just say that I have a gut feeling about this."

"If someone from the outside has contacted you, you have to let us know."

"If someone contacts me, I will take care of it. Now you deliver that letter to my daughter."

Hewitt tapped the envelope against his hand. What was being asked of him was against protocol and could ultimately lead to disciplinary actions and/or a dismissal. This was his life. There was no way a criminal was going to dictate to him procedure.

"I can't make any promises," Hewitt finally conceded. "But I will do the best I can. You do realize that if the higher-ups get wind of this I can be terminated?"

Quinn slowly turned around. Hardened determination replaced the tears of anguish. "And if you don't, my daughter could die. Do you have a daughter?"

Hewitt put the letter in his pocket. "I will see you next week to finish out my report and help you finish settling in." He stuck out his hand. Quinn ignored the gesture. He knew when he had been dismissed. Without another word, he opened the door and departed.

Quinn waited until he heard the car engine start, then fade away. Sitting down at the table, he pushed the glass away and buried his face in his hands. Yes, he had done a lot of wrong things in his lifetime, but God help anyone who decided to harm his daughter.

He pulled the letter out of his pants pocket. Unfolding the paper, he read the words aloud.

"_You have what we want. We have what you want. An exchange is only fair. We'll be in touch. Don't try to run; we have eyes on you."_

Crumpling the note in his hand, Quinn stared up at the blue clear sky. Had his chickens finally come home to roost?


	5. Chapter 5

_Okay, I have no excuse for making you wait so long for an update. But I have been working a lot of hours the past two weeks, and I am in the process of writing another story for CRIMINAL MINDS, so I've been busy. And maybe it's for the best because it is so difficult to write Finch…so it's a good thing he started talking to me this morning._

_P.s. I have to mention this now and nip a rumour in the bud: Although I have been crowned the "Queen of Twists", there will be no secret revelations or unexpected twists and turns in this story. I am going to deliver a love story filled with drama and angst and revenge that leads to a happy and satisfying ending._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

_One week later…_

"Morning, Carter," Lionel Fusco greeted his partner as he walked over to her desk to hand her a cup of coffee. "Thought you might need this."

"Thanks, Fusco." Joss pried off the lid and sipped the scalding liquid. Just the way she liked it, but not as good a the cup left on her desk a week ago. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." He flexed the fingers on his right hand. "Getting the reflexes back in my fingers, although the doctor thinks it's going to be a while before I can take up boxing again," he joked. "How are you?"

"Sore, but better. I'm glad to be back."

"It's good to be back," he agreed and sipped his coffee. "So, what's going on between you and Wonder Boy?" Fusco asked and took his place behind his desk. Reaching over, he turned on the computer monitor and waited.

"You mean John?" she asked. Fusco nodded. "Heh. What makes you think there is anything going on?" Joss deflected without blinking an eye.

Fusco settled his reading glasses on his nose. "I figured since he hasn't been hanging around lately… You two still talking?"

"And if we are?"

Fusco nodded his approval. "Good. After what happened with Simmons, I was hoping you two might have crossed some bridge or something. After all, you saved his life and he saved yours."

"We survived an ambush, Fusco; I hardly think that warrants us becoming best friends," Joss tried to defuse the moment by keeping her eyes on the paperwork before her. She could trust her partner with her life, but she couldn't confide in him what transpired between her and John that night in the morgue.

"Friendships have been started on less," Fusco pointed out. "All I'm saying is you and he look good together."

Surprised, Joss stopped what she was doing and raised her head sharply. "We look good together? What is that supposed to mean?"

Fusco shrugged. "What it means. Look, Carter, I'm a detective whose job is to find answers and look for the truth. I know that there is something between you and John – even if you can't. Trust me on this. And considering what he did to help you bring down HR, I think you should thank him."

"Well," Joss hesitated. She wondered if it was safe to confide one of her secrets in Fusco. "He did ask me out to dinner."

Surprised by the admission, Fusco removed his glasses. "Did you accept?"

"No, I didn't."

"Why not? I'm sure Mr. Vocabulary would be willing to pick up the tab," he teased.

"It's not that easy."

"Everything _is_ that easy," he contradicted. "After all you both have been through, you deserve a night out without bad guys trying to ruin it. Call him back and accept."

Joss shook her head and gave a short laugh. "When did you become an authority on relationships?"

Fusco smiled. "Shhh. That's a secret I don't want getting out."

"Trust me, Fusco, no one would believe me if I told them," she lightly teased. She looked at the clock on the wall. "Time to get to work."

Fusco replaced his glasses and opened the cold case folder on his desk. "Call him."

"Hmmph," was Joss's only reply.  
****

Hearing the familiar footsteps coming down the hall, Bear jumped up from his plush bed and ran over to greet his master.

"Hello, Bear," Reese greeted the canine and unlocked the gate with one hand while balancing the pink pastry box with his other. Bear barked his own greeting in return. Shoving the keys in his pants pocket, he pulled the gate back.

"_Volg. Zit._" Immediately Bear obeyed and assumed the position, but his tongue wagged in anticipation of the treat he knew was coming.

Reese opened the lid and took out the small doggy pastry. "Here you go." Bear swallowed it in one gulp. "Good boy," Reese praised and rubbed the dog's head.

"I'm in here, Mr. Reese," Finch's voice carried down the passageway.

"You're in early," Reese acknowledged. "Don't tell me the Machine kicked out a bunch of numbers."

"Just one, but Ms. Shaw is taking care of it," Finch replied, his fingers flying over the keyboard with expertise. "A banker in Long Island whose wife decided a divorce would take too long."

"Don't they always?" Reese quipped. He set the box down on the corner of the desk. "I brought breakfast. And yes, I picked up some _croquillants_ just for you."

Impressed, Finch raised an eyebrow. "Thank you." He opened the lid. "I'm sure Bear got his treat?"

"Always."

Finch took the rich pastry and bit into it. Delicious. "I've been thinking, Mr. Reese…"

"Should I be afraid?" Reese gently smiled.

"I think you should ask Detective Carter out."

"So that's a yes?"

"I know you already have…"

"And she turned me down."

"Ask her again."

Intrigued, yet confused, Reese cocked his head. "Are you saying that I should ask Carter out?"

Finch thought it over for a full second. "Yes."

"Finch, I'm surprised at you."

"Why?'

"What happened to never getting personally involved with a number?"

"Joss isn't a number. And considering all you both have been through, maybe it wouldn't hurt to take a night off and enjoy yourselves." Finch wiped his hands on a serviette, then began typing. "I have made reservations for you at The Grande for eight o'clock."

"Harold…" Reese protested.

Keeping his eyes concentrated on the monitor screen, he continued inputting information. "I would suggest you wear a tie tonight."

Reese could sense that he had been defeated soundly. "I don't get a say in this, do I?"

"The blue tie to match your eyes and the grey shirt."

"Are you positive there isn't a number? Maybe someone is being dangled off the Brooklyn Bridge who needs our help?" Reese wondered hopefully.

"Ms. Shaw and Detective Fusco will take care of it should it arise."

Reese shook his head. "I'll need a car."

"Already arranged under John Warren."

"You thought of everything, haven't you?"

Finch stopped typing. "Not everything." Reese raised both eyebrows in surprise. "It will be up to you to show her a good time."

Grabbing a donut, Reese took a bite. "Thanks, Finch." Turning on his heel, he made his way down the long passageway, turned the corner, and disappeared.

A smile danced on Finch's lips. "Don't mention it, Mr. Reese."


End file.
